


“watch your step.”

by clickingkeyboards



Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [17]
Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, M/M, Weddings, combining a long-held idea with a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 05:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickingkeyboards/pseuds/clickingkeyboards
Summary: Alexander can only watch as Daisy’s family drama comes to a head.Modern AUWritten for the seventeenth prompt in the '100 ways to say "I love you"' prompt list by p0ck3tf0x on Tumblr.
Relationships: Alexander Arcady/Hazel Wong
Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533164
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	“watch your step.”

I beam at Hazel when she opens the door. “Hazel! Excited for today?”

“Not as excited as Daisy!” she tells me, grinning up at me like I’m the best thing to have happened to her all day.

Then I acknowledge her appearance. Her hair is loose down her back as usual, brushed to glossiness and swept over one shoulder with a hand as she fidgets. She wears a simple blue cheongsam and her face simply  _ glows  _ with excitement.

For some context, Hazel’s best friend’s brother and my best friend’s brother are getting married. That means that both of them are currently running around in mild distress in the local wedding hall. The idea of a mandap was batted around (dismissed because of English weather), as was the idea of a Church (dismissed with a frosty look from Harold, who claimed that he would take back the engagement ring if Bertie made him step foot in a church). Eventually, they settled on a generic hall.

“You look… lovely, Hazel.” I catch her eye. “No, gorgeous. This dress is lovely.”

She loses her breath, and her face flushes to her ears. “I… thank you, Alexander. You look dashing.”

“Thank George,” I joke as we walk to the car. “He wouldn’t see me looking anything less than perfect.”

“He would  _ kill _ you.”

Daisy and George’s brothers (Bertie and Harold, respectively) are five years our senior. Bertie proposed last year, which shocked exactly nobody except George and Daisy. The four of us had just cleared our postgraduate degrees when it happened, which I only know because George and I were walking (stumbling) home after celebrating graduating when Harold messaged us to tell us to be available for a facetime call the following day.

Since then, George has become the wedding planner in between solving cases. I think it’s hilarious, and it gets sufficiently more hilarious the more stressed he gets. I’m a good best friend.

“Oh my  _ goodness _ ,” Hazel says, gawking at her phone as I start the engine. “You will never guess who’s gone and showed up.”

Hazel tilts her phone towards me, and I lean over so I can look at the picture. I acknowledge the message below it first, which is: ‘Hazel, we are FUCKED.’

Then I look at the photo. It’s been taken from a doorway and it’s of George from behind, the back of his grey suit jacket and his best dark hair. Even though the photo has some strange shadows thrown on it, I can tell that George is trying to dismiss the person he is talking to. Said person he is talking to is a blonde woman laden with pearls and heavy makeup. “She looks awfully like Daisy,” I remark, and then it clicks. “Oh. Oh,  _ shit _ .”

“ _ Right? _ ” she agrees, her dark hair streaked with the bright morning light as she turns her head. “I’ve told her to keep me updated.”

Something occurs to me as I make a left turn. “How old were you and Daisy at Fallingford?”

She clearly can’t figure out what I’m trying to make sense of but she answers regardless, ever-trusting as she is. “Thirteen.”

“And at Cambridge we were… fourteen?”

With a nod, she says, “Yes, what are you—”

I hold up a hand. “One more thing, if you don’t mind: their relationship came out when we were… sixteen?”

Once again, she nods. “Yes. Why?”

“Does she know who Bertie is marrying?”

Hazel leans her elbow on the ledge of the open window, saying, “Right here. Also, no, why?”

I sigh, taking the bluntest approach possible. “Does she know that Bertie is marrying a  _ man _ ?”

The colour drains quite dramatically from Hazel’s face. “Oh, good lord.”

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I let out a long breath and sag back into the seat. “We  _ are _ fucked.”

“Let’s review,” she says, tucking her feet up onto the seat and leaning over towards me, her elbow on the armrest in the centre. Her eyes sparkle up at me and her mischievous smile makes her face light up, “Their mother shows up to Bertie’s wedding — goodness knows how she found out — probably hoping to make amends and support her son. She does not, however, know that her son is marrying a man. She will doubtless be shocked by George’s appearance, as he’s Indian and fairly unapologetic about that.”

I  _ have _ to interrupt. “ _ Fairly _ ?” I snort. “I have never met someone prouder to be themselves.”

She nods at me. “True. And we’re here.”

The hall is fairly unimpressive, which we both noticed when we first saw it. However, it is doubtless decorated up to the nines in beautiful blue inside. I pull over into the car park and walk around the car to Hazel. “Watch your step,” I say, holding out a hand as she awkwardly stumbles out.

She grins. “Thanks, Alexander. Now… let’s see if the place is on fire.”

I know almost nothing about Fallingford other than the case notes that were made public, so all I can gather is that Daisy and Bertie are not in contact with any of their family apart from their uncle because of that case, and that their mother is the worst of all. I can only imagine what is happening.

I pull the door open.

In the reception, Daisy and George are talking to Daisy’s mother, both looking mildly distressed and clearly trying to keep the situation quiet so neither of the happy couple is distrubed. 

“You!” she says as she whirls around, pointing directly at me. “Are you the brother of the bride?”

Keeping my attention on her, I try to pay attention to George out of the corner of my eye, seeing if I need to lie or direct the attention back to him. He mouths, ‘Tell the truth.’

“No,” I say, pointing at George. “He is.”

“My son is marrying an  _ Indian _ !” she shrieks, her pearl necklace jumping around as her bosom heaves with rage. “How  _ dare _ he? This is  _ your  _ influence, I say! Yours!”

The finger of blame is now pointed at Hazel, who turns scarlet and grabs my wrist with an iron grip. “I’m not Indian, nor do I have any influence over your child,” she mumbles. Daisy’s mother probably doesn’t hear, but the fact that she said it is what matters.

I bump her shoulder with mine. “Hazel, that was wizard!”

“What on earth is going on?” asks a soft and clipped voice.

George audibly swears as his brother emerges from down the hall off the reception. “No, this isn’t… it would really be best if you  _ left _ .”

Harold is dressed up to the nines in his tuxedo, blue tie slightly loose to allow him to breathe. It could not be more clear that he is ready to be married. “Who are you?” he asks.

Daisy’s mother gasps like a fish out of water, clutching at her pearl necklace. “Who are  _ you _ ?” she shrieks, fearing the worst (which is also the truth).

Hazel pinches my arm and I turn my attention to Daisy, who is grinning and staring at Harold intently, begging him to say exactly who he is. When he turns to her for assurance, she nods enthusiastically and I can see George’s suit jacket strain across the shoulders as he tenses up, ready for what’s about to happen.

“I’m Harold Mukherjee,” he answers honestly, a frown creasing his brow. “You ought to know who I am, if you’ve been invited. I’m the groom.”

After a moment, I fill the silence that follows. “I think it would be best for all parties,” I hear myself say, “if you leave.”

It’s several seconds before Harold says, “Was that a bad time?”

We all burst into laughter. “Perfect timing,” Daisy says, straightening her tie. 

“That was brilliant, Al,” George says, a little breathless and wheezy.

Hazel leans up and kisses my cheek, so naturally I almost forget that we are  _ not  _ together. “As you would say, it was wizard.”


End file.
